


Confessions To A Priest

by a_single_night_without_ghosts



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Crack Fic, FOB, Other, Priest, The End of the world, Vampirism, fall out boy - Freeform, vampire!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 06:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_single_night_without_ghosts/pseuds/a_single_night_without_ghosts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You'll see, it's not long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions To A Priest

I walked into the church and up to the confessional. The priest was conversing with a patron, but soon he entered his side of the booth. I stepped cautiously inside. Did I really want to do what I was about to do? Yes. It needed to be done. The door clicked shit behind me. I looked at the screen partition. There had been a disease that had been going around and I was here to confess it.   
I crossed myself and began.  
"Forgive me Great One Above for I have sinned. It has been six months since my last confession."  
"Tell me your troubles and I shall absolve them."  
"I wrote the milk fic." I blurted. There was silence. "I am the creator of the milk fic." I repeated.  
"You?" The priest asked.  
"I did. I began the disease. I created the atrocity and have brought the wrath of God." I said. The disease was spreading. I was the first infected upon my writing it. It swiftly spread to anyone who read it. It was a form of vampirism. Damnation and fear and lethality of light. I was strained on the holy ground. My sunglasses were protecting me from the sight of the crosses. I could barely see. I would have bruises on my knees from running into pews if I had blood to form the hematomas, but alas and alac, my heart is stone cold.   
"You are damned and beyond redemption. God's own hand has smitten thee." The priest spoke gravely.  
"There is no hope?" I asked.  
"None." He said. "Now you must die." The partition opened and he shoved the wood cross deep into my chest. My fangs unsheathed themselves and I hissed.  
"But you are a priest, you do no evil?" I cried.  
"By your own hand I am no more a priest than you an angel." He bit off cruelly. "You have cursed us all and deserve His wrath." I was confused at his use of pronoun until I saw his fangs slip over his lip. That was the last thing I saw before I turned to ash.   
The priest brushed off his thick black shirt and trousers and stepped diligently out of the confessional. After a generation of toil the creator of the creatures was finally dead.   
His skin was on fire from the burning candles and the crosses. He walked down the aisle at a clipped pace. When he reached the end he crossed himself and said: "ashes to ashes and dust to dust." He then ripped off his name tag and threw it down. The doors slamed behind him. The church is long abandoned and among the dusty pews the name tag still sits, Saint Wentz. Amen.


End file.
